Ben C. O. Grimm

I can't hear it. Damn you. I can see it moving. You acknowledge it. But I can't hear it. I open the door, and I run outside. No cars, no people. The trees are standing there, silently. All is silent. I can't hear it. The whole world's grinding to a halt. It's giving me ample opportunity. Everyone's holding his breath. Every factory is full of silent workers, shutting off the engines, closing the gates, deacivating the furnaces. Nobody needs to be told. No one needs to be informed. Everyone is aware of my needs. Gun sellers are postponing their killer deals. Destruction can wait. They know I can't. But I can't hear it. School children are just sitting there, their hands in their laps. The cars on the highway have stopped. No one is angry. No one taps the steering wheel. No one shifts gear. Not a single pig in the slaughterhouse ponders its fate. Blank stares. Calm seas. Australia's beaches are crowded with surfers. No one speaks. No one lifts a finger. But I can't hear it. Departures are cancelled. No flights are coming in. Fishermen look at their nets, but touch nothing. The raving madman isn't trying to fight off his straightjacket. The drunk doesn't belch. A mother of three passes away silently. Nobody weeps. Not a single tear is falling. Not a single cat is cratching. The rapist's victim holds her breath. A professor is observing his students. The tennis balls are lined up against the fence. The gutters are empty. There is no news. A lottery winner stares at his statement of account. The fudge stays wrapped. But I can't bloody hear it. Tumors throb, kidneys burn, backs ache, but there are no tired sighs. The jungle is subdued. The birds stay put. No one reaches orgasm. No coffee is stirred, no coktail is shaken. No tap leaks. No toilet is flushed. Molecules are aligned, atoms are in sync. It's moving. I can see it. I can almost touch it. But I can't hear it. Damn you. Damn you to hell.

© Ben C. O. Grimm